


Moonlight Madness (BEING REWRITTEN)

by Dark_And_Delightful



Category: Bloodborne, Devil May Cry
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Daughter of The Good Hunter!Reader, Death, Demons, Devil May Cry - Freeform, Devils, F/F, F/M, Female Reader, Inspired by Bloodborne, Multi, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Original Male Character(s) - Freeform, Rating May Change, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, SPAWN THEM TAGS, Spawned from Hell, Third Person POV, Various/Reader - Freeform, bloodborne au, bloodborne/reader, devil may cry/reader, great ones, hunter reader, multiple ocs/reader, no beta we die like men, omnipotent dad, possibly overpowered reader, probs going to make a g/n version but later, some stuff is most definitely not canon, some thora/meyer, this is bloodborne y'all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-07-25 09:04:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16194389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_And_Delightful/pseuds/Dark_And_Delightful
Summary: A demigod, two half-devils, one reincarnation of the Virgin Mary, a little girl, too many Hunters, a shit ton of regular demons, a god, and three Great Ones walk into a bar…(devil may cry/reader/bloodborne)





	1. Stage I

_“What do you remember?”_

_Bells...bells, whispering…_

_She held her head. She did not want to remember._   
_“What do you remember?”_

  
_The bells, oh, the bells! How they thundered! And the cries of dead children and the coffins lining the street!_

  
_She could barely think anymore. Perhaps she had fallen to the madness, or perhaps she was dead. She ended the idea; they were one and the same._   
_“Tell me, child! What do you remember?”_

  
_The chants, Father! And the screeching! But Father! The bells! The bells!_

  
_Sleep, child._

_The hunt begins soon._

➳

YHARNAM HUNTERS HAD no place, no true home, aside from the cursed city.  
They lived for the Hunt, everyone assumed, and the Hunt remained only for them. It was what made the city, and it had long sealed its fate.  
Of course, everyone outside of the mountains thought that. They were not Yharnamites, and even if they moved there and lived there until they died, they would never be considered a true Yharnamite. They would forever be a naive outsider.  
Yharnam was considered one of those cities that was like one massive clique, as though everyone was in on a secret except for you. Technically, it was, on both accounts, but the Yharnamites didn’t care. This was their city, not yours, thank you very much, and they would treat it as such. In fact, some Hunters that weren’t from Yharnam would literally be called ‘outsiders’, and while the help was vaguely appreciated, they would be turned away more often than if they had lived their whole life in Yharnam.  
But Yharnam was hiding something in every nook and cranny. You enter, and _boom_ you find out that the blood transfusions come from the Great Ones. Turn around, and _surprise!_ You find out that a wee baby is throwing everything to shit. You go to leave and, _whoops-a-fuckin-daisy_ now you’re stuck here until you die or catch the scourge.  
Pleasant. Very, very pleasant.

Of course, this was still an outsider’s opinion. Specifically, Dante Sparda’s opinion. He never left Fortuna often, and had never been to Yharnam. The only things he really respected about the peoples of Yharnam were the Hunters.  
Dante was, in no way, a lightweight. He could most definitely handle himself in a fight (be it human or demonic), even if he was at a disadvantage. He had fought and killed a god. He had almost ever lost a battle.  
But, one time. _One time._  
This one time was never mentioned within the walls of Devil May Cry, with the risk of Dante going on a rant about how he was going easy on the two man-beasts that worked their way up from Yharnam to Fortuna, and the only devil hunter available was Dante. Everyone assumed that it would be easy. Two, stick-thin, diseased men, versus the part-devil, fit hunter?  
Dante didn’t stand a chance.  
He was surprised by their startling brutality; devils usually gave light blows to save energy, but damn if the man-beasts-the so-called _huntsmen_ -didn’t use everything they had. And they didn’t even leave room for Dante to attack. They just kept on swinging torches and pikes.  
Dante, for once, actually had concerns when one caught him in mid-air and left him winded in the mud, and his life almost flashed before his eyes when one started bringing the pike down.  
But it never came.  
He felt was a disgusting amount of what he assumed was bodily liquid, and when he opened his eyes, he saw two corpses on the ground. They had been viscerally stabbed, in a brutal manner that almost made Dante feel sorry for them.  
Then he looked up. And before him could have been described as the universe’s muddiest, bloodiest lifesaver.  
He was in typical Yharnam hunter garb-brown leather all around, with a tri-corner hat and a worn face mask-but it had been well ‘loved’, A belt was slung across his chest, where he holstered a pistol, bullets, and some bottles of blood. He sheathed a toothed weapon, and Dante realised that it was a trick saw, a Hunters-only weapon.  
“Are you alright?”  
Dante jolted when he realised the man was holding his hand out, blue eyes looking almost concerned.  
“Yeah.” Dante scoffed. “I had them.”  
He took the hand.

The Hunter looked amused, and nodded. “Obviously. I stole your blood echoes, though.”  
“My what?” Dante hoped it wasn’t bits of his soul, or something.  
“Blood echoes. You get them when you kill someone, and you can use them in the Dream.”  
“The Dream. Uh huh.” Dante nodded, lost. “Keep ‘em.”  
“Thank you.”  
“Meyer!”  
Both jumped when a woman called to the Hunter, far in the distance. Meyer winced.  
“Thora. Another Hunter that I’m courting.”  
“Courting?” Dante looked back at Thora, and winced from the glare that she emitted a hundred feet away.  
Meyer laughed. “Indeed. Either way, I must take my leave.” He began to jog away, before he turned again. “Good luck on the Hunt! And praise the good blood!”  
Both Thora and Meyer disappeared into the distance, and Dante dusted himself off.  
“Praise the good blood, huh?”

This one, exclusive time changed Dante’s entire opinion on Hunters. Before, he always figured that they were weak for dying so often, but the one experience changed his outlook entirely. No wonder they fell so often; they were faced with impossible enemies that threatened their home. The beasts would’ve probably torn the place to shreds if it weren’t for the Hunters, and Yharnam would be nothing more than a ghost town, gone with the howling wind.

And if their home was gone, then where would they go?


	2. Stage II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-hrBhA4XkM   
> if y'all wanna get ur good mood on then start this where it says (start here) please and thank you

AS PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED, Dante had a high respect for Hunters of Yharnam. While he wasn’t wholly aware of how they did it, he knew that they did it. If they ever branched out of Yharnam, Dante knew that he’d be out of work. They got the job done, dusted off their clothes, and probably made it home in time for dinner.   
And speaking of dinner, Trish was late.   
The devil herself was due to come to Devil May Cry to speak with Dante and Vergil over dinner about a new job, one that could possibly be linked to an upheaval of their collective work against devils. Vergil hadn’t shown his face, either, but Dante was sure that he was simply training. He propped his feet up against his desk, and closed his eyes, preparing to take a nap until Trish arrived.   
The door opened, and Dante didn’t even open his eyes.   
“What held you up, Trish?”   
“I apologise, but I am not Trish.”   
Dante jolted upright when the soft-spoken voice came from the door. He knew the accent and the way she spoke. 

Then again, her Hunter’s garb said more than enough.   
Dante recovered, and sat back down. “What d’ya need? Some help in the paranormal department?”   
“No.” Her voice seemed rough for being so quiet. “Some leads of the similar kind. I have been told that you hunt demons.”   
Dante’s eyebrows shot up. It looked like he was out of a job.   
“Devils. Yeah.” Dante nodded, leaning forward. The woman’s eyes crinkled beyond her mask.   
“Are there any occurrences nearby?”   
Dante took a moment, watching her. She had a trick axe strapped to her thigh, and he knew that Hunters were notorious for being able to stuff their pockets. Her hunter’s clothes had dried blood on it, but overall it looked well taken care of. Some [h/c] peeked out from under her hat, curls at her neck.   
But her eyes.  
Her eyes were a bright-yet-dull [e/c], the kind of someone who’s been scarred but able to get past it.   
Someone who’s seen too much.   
“Nah.” Dante shook his head, lying. “It’s been quiet lately.”   
“Very well, then.” Her brows furrowed, then relaxed, then furrowed again. “I apologise for taking your time.” 

“It’s ok.” Dante waved a hand. “If you ever need help, just stop by here.”   
“Thank you. That’s very kind.” The Huntress did a bow, before stepping through the door and into the darkness. Dante watched her go for a moment, wondering what a Hunter was doing out of Yharnam, when Trish walked through the door, catching it as it was closing.   
“What’s a Yharnamite doing here?” Trish asked, watching the Hunter turn a corner and disappear.   
“Looking for work.” Dante felt unusually sober, a kind of chill coming over him.   
“Really…” Trish nodded, trailing off before facing him. “Is dinner ready?” 

 

[Name], the Moonblood Hunter, had not anticipated there being nothing in Fortuna.   
Rather, she had not anticipated being lied to. Rather, she had not anticipated there being such a lacklustre fear of demons (or devils, as the man in the shop corrected) in Fortuna and the quite sudden end of the Yharnam blood scourge, which left her in the dark as to where she could go next. Her skills were based in fighting, so normal jobs would hardly being suiting for her. Of course, she would still try for a job at some local shop if she needed to, but she would prefer not to. Her father was a hunter, and so was she, and she assumed that she would likely fall at the hand of some Yharnam horror.   
But fate declared otherwise.   
[Name] felt a slight drizzle come on, and looked up.   
“Damn.”   
The moon was obscured, which she figured was better, but dark clouds rolled in, and the drizzle would surely become something far heavier in a short amount of time. She eyed the surrounding area and saw some trivial homes. The lights were out in many of them, as it was late at night, and [Name] looked to the other side. There was a Christian church, and the light was on. [Name]’s eyes widened.   
She walked over, careful not to step in the rapidly growing mud, and knocked on the door.   
“Hello?” She called, waiting a moment until she heard the door creak open. Inside was an elderly man, in a reverend’s uniform, and what looked to be his wife next to him.   
“Hello?” He parroted, before lifting the candelabra he had up to observe her face. “A hunter? What are you doing up at this time at night, child?”   
“I came from Yharnam looking for work, but I have to place to stay. Is it possible that I spend the night here? I promise that I shall be of no worry to you.” [Name] watched as the reverend raised his whiskery eyebrows.   
“It’s not comfortable, child. I can assure you that you would get very little sleep here.”   
“Sleep, my good reverend, is not what I ask for. Merely a roof over my head. I have spent nights in worse places.”   
The reverend exchanged a look with his wife, before nodding. “Come in, and we shall perhaps gather some blankets for you.”   
“Thank you. Please, do not bother yourselves. It will be as though I am not here.” [Name] stepped into the church, glad for the roof to keep out the rain.   
“It is the least we can do.” The woman smiled, benign, and [Name] smiled under her mask.  
“Thank you.” 

The Hunter sat on a pew, trying to keep her clothes from dripping on the maroon carpet as the reverend and his wife walked down a hallway, going to get blankets and pillows. She glanced around, seeing that they must have been doing some late night prayer. Candles were flickering, and a statue of Jesus being crucified was softly lit.   
“Here you go,” the woman placed a blanket and a pillow by [Name], who was beginning to relax. There was a moment of awkward silence, terse in the air before the woman spoke up.   
“You...you are a hunter of Yharnam, yes?”   
[Name] looked up. “I was, yes.”   
“Well,” the woman looked very hesitant, wringing her hands. “My daughter, Thora, she went with her husband to be hunters, for the greater good…”   
[Name] tensed. “I know of them.”   
“Are they...are they alright?”   
“I can’t speak for Thora, as the last time I saw her was perhaps three months ago, but as for Meyer, last I saw of him was but a fortnight.”   
“Well, it’s a relief to know about Meyer.” the old woman clasped her hands. “He’s such a fine young man, really.” [Name] hummed in agreement, nodding.   
“He’s very kind.” 

(start here) 

Again, the air was tense, and [Name] knew that the woman had something else she wanted to ask. She glanced over, her eyes an unspoken invitation, and the woman inhaled a breath. She walked over to the altar, looking up at the statue of Jesus. [Name] watched her, closely.   
“For weeks now, I have been having dreams.” The woman began. “Nightmares, even.”   
[Name] narrowed her eyes, memories of blood rivers and holy executions fresh in her mind. “Yes?”   
“Visions, of these monsters attacking the church, coming in droves, like a wave upon each other.” The candlelight made the woman look almost sinister, or perhaps older than she was. She raised her hands to the statue. “I’ve prayed, every day and every night, for the Lord to deliver someone to help our little church. Last night was the worst. I saw Thora, dead.” The woman turned, looking hollow. “I have no reason to believe that she is alive, now.”   
“And you believe that I am tied into this?”   
“I know that you are!” The woman almost screamed, on her knees. “I prayed, and He sent you to us. I understand that our Lords, our deities differ in many, many ways, but the Lord works in mysterious ways. He sent you to us! Surely, something is happening!”   
[Name] stared at the old woman with pity. “This is a church. Nothing monstrous can step on holy ground. Visions are strong, yes, but this…”   
“Please, good hunter!” The woman turned, abruptly, and grabbed a handful of [Name]’s leathers. [Name] stiffened; she hadn’t heard that term in a long time. “Please, protect me and my husband.”   
[Name]’s brow furrowed, but she nodded. “Yes.”   
“Thank you, thank you!” The woman near sobbed, placing her face into [Name]’s chest. “Thank you, good hunter…” She fell silent, and [Name] gently picked her up. She had appeared to have passed out, wrinkled hands clutching at [Name]. The Hunter sighed.   
“Rosalie!” The Preacher emerged from one of the side hallways, by the front door. “Rosalie…” 

The Preacher froze. 

In front of him seemed like something right out of the old Franciscan monk's drawings, a delicate image burned into the brain of anybody who dared look.   
The Hunter held the old woman, bridal style, with moonlight falling over the two of them. The Crucifixion of Jesus was in the background, the candles making it all the more unearthly. He could’ve sworn that he heard the old Gregorian chants at the Choirs, and when the Hunter looked up, the old man felt a shiver down his spine.   
It was as though a deity herself had come into the church.   
“She was in hysterics,” the Hunter whispered softly, right in front of the preacher. He jumped, not realising that she was that close, and took Rosalie out of her arms.   
“Hysterics? About what?”   
“Dreams she had been having.”   
The preacher nodded, understanding. “Did she tell you…?”   
“Yes. I agreed to help if anything happened.”   
“Thank you.” The preacher smiled. “It has been the cause of her worry for a very long time, so it will be a relief to have some assurance.”   
[Name]’s brow relaxed, and she nodded. “Of course. One kind deed for another.”   
The preacher nodded again, wishing her good rest, before leaving the centre aisle. [Name] watched until they were gone, before walking back down to the blankets and pillow.   
Sleep was going to be her guest tonight. 

 

[Name] woke up to the hairs on her neck standing on end.   
She leapt up, spinning left and right, feeling like she was being stared at. When she saw nothing, she began to sit back down but glanced at the floor.   
The moonlight was on her.   
[Name] narrowed her eyes, looking into the skylight to see the huge, full moon.   
“What are you trying to tell me?” She tilted her head, pulling out her trick axe and making her way to the front door. Ghostly little creatures, Messengers of the Hunter’s Dream, swarmed around the door and clawed at it. [Name] leaned down and absentmindedly rubbed the head of one, who groaned in delight, before pushing it open. 

The storm had seemed to have somewhat rolled away, leaving a harsh wind in its stead that blew at everything. A bare tree bent in the wind, all the remaining autumn leaves blowing off. Some of the houses across the way had lights on, and one even seemed to have a party going on.   
Have they no fear?, [Name] thought, eyeing them with annoyance. Surely something had to be up, or [Name] would’ve continued sleeping like a rock.   
Then, she heard it. A groan.   
The thing about this groan was that this was the type of groan that made you freeze and wonder when you stepped into a horror movie. Some associate it with zombies, but [Name] knew exactly what that noise belonged to.   
A man-beast.   
[Name] took a sharp inhale, gripping her trick axe with white knuckles. The scourge was done, and all the beasts had been slaughtered. So why were they here, in Fortuna, of all places?   
They began emerging from the alleyways and a few from the windows of dark houses. [Name] felt nothing but incomprehensible pity for those inside, if they were still alive.   
“What is going on?” [Name] spun around, seeing the preacher by the door and Rosalie clinging to him.   
“Get back inside. Now.” [Name] hissed, turning back to the street. “Call for any help we can get.”   
“How many of them are there?” Rosalie muttered, entranced by the emerging torches. [Name] extended her axe, hoisting it in front of her. 

“An army.”


	3. Stage III

[NAME] HAD NEVER really seen so many man-Beasts in one place before, clustered as such. But she had also never left Yharnam before and had never been in a Christian church before. Tonight was a night of ‘firsts’.

That’s fine. She’s fine. She can stay calm. Stay calm. That’s _fine_.

A Cathedral Giant appeared, and [Name]’s heart leapt to her throat.

_Uh oh._

Fighting a group of huntsmen was already hard enough, but this was just over the top. Thoughts raced through [Name]’s head, specifically ‘ _what in the name of the Great Ones called all these things here?_ ’ and ‘ _if I die, will I end up in the Hunter’s Dream? Or will I actually die?_ ’. Both didn’t have good answers, she figured. She told the preacher to call for help, and for them to hide by the altar, but what were the chances that another Yharnam hunter was out and about at this time of night? She briefly thought back to the man she had met before, but devils were vastly different than Yharnam Beasts. And as she thought that, just the thing joined the potpourri of maniacal evil.

_Devils._

She resisted groaning and pointed her axe at the closest Beast, as though daring him to come closer. She was aware that Beasts couldn’t walk on holy ground unless they died there, and apparently, they knew that. Like a wave, she realised, they were stumbling on each other and collapsing into the graveyard, burning and screeching. [Name] thought she had seen ‘terrible’ before. But this en mass suicide was something that chilled her to the bone. Once, she had seen a movie where it had lemmings jumping off a cliff, and a voice saying ‘Leap! Leap! For that is all they know!’, and [Name] felt the same amount of cold disgust, dread, and sickness washing over her than what she had then.

“Oh my god,” She muttered, not caring that it wasn’t even her god she was talking about. Then, all the Beasts and devils clambered over the bodies. [Name] had heard of it happening before; people crossing rivers after mass executions by using the bodies of the dead. But she had never considered it a possibility. In actuality, she never considered the Beasts capable of intelligence beyond speech, but that was apparently wrong. Then, she realised they were coming to her. The Hunter nearly stumbled back, but her back hit the door, and she realised that she had to stay and fight, or else. She steeled herself.

The first couple of Beasts were easily taken care of, but after that, it was Hell on Earth. They were trying to rip at her, claws cutting through leather, and occasionally flesh and blood. The devils were still lingering in the back, and [Name] knew that once they hit, she would barely stand a chance. They were faster and lighter. They could strike when the Beasts had her winded. She forged forward, using her axe handle to shove them back. Some of them crashed into the graveyard, unprotected, and burned, but the others took her moment of weakness to pounce. They toppled her over and swung with a ferocity she had never seen before. One of them cried ‘ _for Prince Belias!_ ’ before jumping off of her and burning the way to a mausoleum.

[Name]’s blood chilled. Some left to go to the mausoleum, but the rest were clawing at her and her axe. Her stamina to start was never great, but with this was just too much. The axe slipped from her hands, and she awaited death.

Then, two shots rang out, then another three.

[Name] opened her eyes. The devils were gone, and the two Beasts were knocked back. One was actually screaming, holding his head in his hands.

“Are you alright?” [Name] spun around to see a blonde woman in a black leather corset, with two guns in her hand. One was smoking, and [Name] couldn’t help but grin.

“I am. Thank you.”

“No problem.” She smirked. “You a hunter?”

“Yes.” [Name] glanced around realising that a majority of the devils and Beasts were at the mausoleum, and all the others were dead. [Name]’s eyes snapped over to the open marble door, realising that there was more fighting inside.

“My associates and I came when Preacher Brown called. He said that you might need some help.”

“Yes…” [Name] observed the woman for a moment, before nodding. “You don’t suppose that they can fight Beasts?” The woman just winked, before bolting to the mausoleum. [Name] stood, for a moment, feeling like the entire thing was a dream, before joining the woman.

* * *

She never saw the woman’s other two associates, [Name] had come to realise.

But that was fine by her. All the Beasts came to her and the woman, and those were what she came to take care of. Within thirty minutes, the two had entirely cleared the first floor of the mausoleum. They went down, taking care of any Beasts that they came across along the way, before [Name] felt the floor begin to shake.

"What-?” [Name] yelped, before toppling over. The woman kept impeccable balance but looked mildly perturbed. Abruptly, something black sped past them, with two red and blue blurs on his tail.

“That’s them!” The woman yelled, and became a yellow and black streak herself, dashing out of sight. [Name]’s shoulders slumped, weariness kicking in. She heard a low growl coming from the very bottom of the mausoleum. Another chill, after so many times that night, went down her spine. With trepidation, she began working her way down. Occasionally, Beasts would appear, but they were scattered in such a fashion that [Name] had no fear about handling them.

Then, she saw it. It was at the very end, and the growling had long stopped. But something increasingly ominous about the casket before her threw the Hunter off. Maybe it was the chains that surrounded it or the scattered bodies of Yharnam hunters. One, in particular, was still alive, choking and gurgling on her own blood. She was horribly mutilated, but [Name] recognised her, barely.

“Thora,” she whispered. The woman turned her heard, just a bit, letting out wheezes.

“M...Moonblood…” [Name] rushed to Thora’s side, cradling her head with surprising gentleness.

“I’m here, Thora. I’m here.”

“He’s coming,” she coughed up some blood, getting it all over her leathers. “They are coming, and…”

“And?” [Name] knew that Thora didn’t have long, and she wanted to know what Thora knew. Thora took a long, shuddering breath before continuing.

“Tell me, Moonblood. You know what we do with babes.”

“With babes?” [Name] nodded. Thora grinned, blood staining her teeth.

“We end their miserable existences before they can hurt anyone.” For a moment, Thora looked undeniably sinister, and her eyes grew wild.

“Thora? What do you mean?” [Name] felt an odd sense of dread creep over the room, swallowing the walls.

“And so comes forth the omen,” Thora wheezed out, before going still, her brown eyes glassy. [Name] felt tears prick her eyes, before placing Thora gently on the ground. The growling began again, but much louder than before, from inside the marble casket. Feeling the dread increase, she walked over, looking over the side.

Inside was a gruesome thing, curled up like a fetus. It was like the mix of a baby and a Messenger, ghostly white and small. Its eyes were hollow, skin dug out to look like wrinkles. [Name], in a trance, clasped her axe, watching the burned fingers of its curl, and it took one breath.

[Name] brought the axe down, and it didn’t even make a noise.

[Name] felt a disturbing sense of satisfaction at the red blood pooling out of its neck, a madness gripping her. She began to laugh, laughing over the corpses of Hunters and Beasts alike, with it echoing off the walls and consuming her. This was a madness that controlled all Hunters. It was the blood madness. Then, a feeling of something watching her made her freeze. She turned around, slowly, one hand covering her eye. The other was near popping out of its socket, red veins profound. At the steps of the curled stairs was a man. He wore the Yharnam hunter garb, but he was glowing a white-gold. There was no other colour on him but that, and the moon-made spotlight made him even more apparent in the dark room. He held out his hand, and [Name] took it. All at once, it was like everything had been sucked out of the room. The madness was gone, and [Name] was left all alone with the corpses. The man she had seen was one that all Hunters knew, and she was aware that she was dangerously close to becoming a man-Beast herself.

“Thank you,” she muttered.

* * *

[Name] emerged from the mausoleum with Thora in her arms to see the woman, alongside the preacher, Rosalie, a man in a blue coat, and another in red, who had his back turned to her.

“So they were trying to resurrect Prince Belias?” The one in blue murmured, and the woman nodded.

“Not only that but from what you described in the mausoleum, Yharnamites are integral to whatever plan they have.”

“Sounds like a party.” The one in red said, almost snarky.

“And the seal over the door is still there?” The blue one asked.

“Yeah. We can’t get to the corpse to stop the ritual until the seal is down.” The woman responded. Rosalie stepped forward.

“Why can’t you just go in?”

“Devils can’t get through.” The red one crossed his arms. “It’s meant to block everything for this exact reason, but it looks like the devils got some friends, and painted the town.”

“I would assume,” [Name] began, making all of them jump. “That the corpse was in its casket. In which case, it is dead.” Everyone spun around to look at her, and Rosalie and Preacher Brown rushed forward.

“Thora!” [Name] handed the body off to Preacher Brown, before turning to the other three. [Name] noticed that the one in red was the man she spoke to previously, and she sighed.

“Very convenient that you lied.” She tilted her head, the slightest bit of annoyance in her voice. “I wouldn’t have stayed the night, had you told me the truth.”

“About that…” The man in red shifted his stance a bit. “It’s my job, and my job only.” [Name] only hummed, and turned to the woman. She gave the Hunter’s Salutation, before smiling.

“Thank you for saving me earlier.”

“Again, no problem.” She gave a half-smile. “You said that Belias is dead?”

“Yes. Looked like an unborn fetus?” The man in red snorted, and the woman nodded.

“Yup.”

"Then he has met his fate, once and for all. I must ask, though.” [Name] tilted her head, eyeing the three. “What are you all?” The woman cocked an eyebrow, before narrowing her eyes.

“Why do you ask?”

“I have never seen anything move that fast in my life.” [Name] blinked. “In fact, the next closest thing was a beast, and there was only one.”

The woman nodded. “Let’s just keep it at ‘not human’.”

“Very well, then.” [Name] nodded. “Then may I, at least, have the joy of knowing your names?”

“I’m Trish,” She placed her hands on her hips.

“Dante, at your service.” The one in red gave a little salute, and [Name] glanced over at the blue one.

“Vergil,” He said, curtly, before crossing his arms.

“And I am [Name], the Moonblood Hunter of Yharnam.” She gave another Hunter’s Salutations, before eyeing the sunrise. “I suspect this has been a long night for all of us. If you wish to discuss more about tonight, then perhaps we could meet again once we all have rested?”

“That’d be a good idea.” Trish nodded. “We’ll give the preacher a call when we’re ready.”

“Of course.” [Name] watched as they began to leave, before turning to the sunrise.

 

_“And so comes forth the omen.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it spoopy y'all
> 
> also my favourite line of all time is ‘potpourri of maniacal evil’ bc same


End file.
